There
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: The distance makes it that much better to be there. Sequel to "Here." Slash. Oneshot. Smut with plot.


**A/N: The very first section of this is based on a dream I had (which is pitiful and a little disturbing if you're me), and I adapted it to become a follow-up to "Here," so the events of that story are what eventually lead to this plot, though you needn't read that fic to understand this one. And wait - is this ? . . . did I actually write ? . . . Yes. Smut. Enjoy.**

There

Troy made one final thrust, and the man's resulting groan vibrated up the length of him. His head jerked back and he found himself smiling at memories this very moment always seemed to bring to mind. The feeling lasted a precious few seconds.

Tim or Todd - maybe Tom? - rose to his feet and looked Troy squarely in the eye, smirking. "Nervous now?"

Troy's grin quickly faded as, like usual, he realized what he had done and averted his gaze. He shoved off the rack of clothing he'd been propped against and moved to zip up his pants. "Thanks," he muttered, voice filled with the proper amount of guilt.

"Don't mention it. Don't want our lead freezing up on stage, right?" T-something replied in ignorance, one hand moving to Troy's shoulder friendlily.

Troy let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah." But that was no excuse. "So, uh, I have to run lines. I'll see you later." He didn't meet the other man's eyes as he exited the costume room.

He kept his head down on his way backstage, already hearing the murmurs of a crowd on the other side of the curtain - a crowd that was no doubt incomplete, without the one person he'd been so used to seeing at his performances before Berkeley, before the move.

-break-

"Jesus, you're good at this," Rick hissed into Chad's collarbone, obviously pleased.

"Practice makes perfect, dude," Chad grunted, tightening his grip just enough to make Rick squeak a little bit.

"Do you always - do this - before games?" he asked between haggard breaths.

"It's been a while. Do you always talk this much when you get a hand job?" Chad looked up into Rick's eyes, expression light.

"Good point," Rick acknowledged before leaning forward and fitting his mouth against Chad's.

Chad resisted a grimace. Rick tasted like tobacco and Gatorade and used his tongue far too much to impress anybody, but Chad needed the release, the activity, anything to keep his mind off the fact that he was missing Troy's opening night because the Red Hawks had to compete.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before his quickened pace brought Rick to the peak of the experience, and he was able to finish him off with only a couple more strokes and a hasty bite to his lower lip.

He backed off hurriedly, grabbing a nearby towel and, after cleaning off his hand with only a little disgust, tossing it to Rick, who didn't seem to have any regrets - yet.

"What about you?" Rick asked without hesitation, gesturing at what had made itself quite obvious under Chad's red and black uniform.

Chad glanced down and shrugged. "You don't have to -"

"Hey, payback's a bitch," Rick quipped as he stepped forward and pinned Chad against one of the locker-room walls.

-break-

Troy sang his solo on autopilot, scanning the audience in spite of the spotlight burning holes in his retinas.

_Step to the left._

He didn't know why he was bothering; the afroed head he was looking for was too busy making three-point shots from across the court back in Albuquerque to make the drive there. Hell, he had most likely forgotten all about Troy's show by now.

_Spin, step back._

Even Gabriella had an exam to study for and had regrettably declined his invitation to the first musical he had attempted without her.

_Look right. Look up. Look happy._

Truth was, he had felt nothing but loneliness since moving to California. 32.7 miles wasn't nearly as short a distance as it had seemed when he'd chosen Gabriella over his parents, over his hometown, over Chad; and he'd spent every waking minute he wasn't at Stanford regretting his decision.

_Look off-stage left. Other characters enter._

And the only time he'd been legitimately happy in three - maybe four - months, was the two hour game he'd played against U of A that November, and the three hours he'd spent catching up with Chad afterward, Red Hawk victory party aside. He'd told Chad about the musical then, and Chad had promised to try and make it.

_Step right. Smile._

He'd called the next day about the game that was scheduled on opening night. He was one of the best players on the team.

-break-

Chad hated his mind's false expectations, the way he unconsciously looked for Troy at the game.

He wasn't across the court, cheering Chad on, or next to the hoop waving for a pass. He wasn't blocking the other team or sitting on the bench so the coach didn't look like he was playing favorites.

He just . . . wasn't there, and it was something Chad still had yet to get used to.

But he played his hardest, trying to make up for the fact that his best friend's talent was being wasted on another school's success, and trying to prove to said friend, to the world, to _himself_ that he could go on being great without The Troy Bolton.

The coach said Chad was his star player, and even though he was proud, he sometimes wondered how much better he would be if Troy _was_ playing at his side.

-break-

Everyone had assumed it would be Chad who would suffer because of Troy's move. After all, besides Sharpay, he had been the only Wildcat staying in town for college, and everyone knew how close he and Troy were - as friends; Troy often questioned how it was that no one, not even Gabriella or Taylor, had noticed the gradual transition they had made into something more after the inciting incident on Chad's couch.

Either way, he had suffered, too. In fact, from the conversations he and Chad had managed to have over the phone, it sounded like the darker boy was faring far better than his tanned counterpart.

_He_ wasn't struggling to pass his classes.

_He_ wasn't the underdog on his school's basketball team.

_He_ wasn't hating every song in the musical he was in.

And _he_ probably wasn't wasting his time with guys he didn't even like in the corners of dressing rooms or - as was the case at this particular moment - in the back of his piece-of-shit car.

-break-

"Are we on a roll, or what?" Rick cheered as he and Chad left the locker-room after their big win that evening.

"Haven't lost a game yet!" Chad rejoined with matching enthusiasm, though he silently regretted ever letting Rick in on his secret; the guy was getting attached.

"All thanks to you, Danny-Boy!" Chad winced at the marring of his last name and the zealous hand that jarred him forward in praise.

"Please. You and the other guys helped," Chad declared, faking cockiness.

"'You're our star player,'" Rick announced, imitating the coach creepily well.

Chad snorted and shook his head. "Bull." They had reached his car, and he moved to get in, expecting Rick to continue into the parking lot.

"So . . ." Rick reached out and brushed Chad's wrist with his fingers before closing them around the joint and tugging slightly. "You up for a celebration?"

Rick wanted more. Chad pulled his arm back to himself and cringed in what he hoped looked like lamentation. "Man, I can't. I made other plans. Sorry."

"Oh." Rick's suggestive expression faded. "Well, maybe some other time."

"Yeah, sure." Chad flashed his teeth and unlocked his door. "See you later."

He lowered himself into the driver's seat and heaved a sigh, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. "Fuck. What are you doing, Chad?" He didn't actually expect an answer, but he _really_ could have used one. He leaned back into the vinyl seat and made the quick decision to search his pockets for his cell. Maybe if he just called the source of his frustration, all the negative feelings would go away.

Troy answered on the seventh ring - the _seventh_. "Chad?" He sounded out of breath, an indication that -

"Hey, how was opening night?" Chad forced the question out before he had time to think about ending what would probably be an awkward conversation.

"Who's Chad?" a very masculine voice asked teasingly in the background, confirming Chad's suspicions.

"I can call back later, if you're busy," he offered through clenched teeth.

"No, I was just -"

"Can't this wait?" the same voice queried seductively.

Chad listened to the microphone being covered and the argument that escalated to shouting, muffled just enough so he couldn't really make out the words.

"Chad? You still there?" Troy's question was accompanied by the slamming of a car door, and his loud exhalation. Chad could just see his fingers flying up to massage his temples.

"Yeah. Another tension tamer?" They had come up with the term within a few weeks of Troy's departure.

"Ugh. I really know how to pick 'em, huh. Sorry you had to hear that."

"Eh, at least you answered." Chad quickly changed the subject; he didn't want to think about the sex he was busy _not_ having with Troy. "So, you didn't say: how was your show?"

"Good, I guess. Got a standing ovation." Troy's shrugging shoulders flashed in Chad's mind.

"You _always_ get standing ovations," he reminded cheekily, turning the keys in the ignition.

"Well, yeah." Modesty didn't suit Troy, Chad quietly decided. "I thought you would've forgotten my show was tonight anyway."

"What?" This addition startled Chad as he backed out of his parking space. "Dude, I was thinking about it all night."

"Really?" Troy sounded shocked.

"Yeah! It's good I can do more than one thing at once, or we probably would've lost the game," Chad noted somewhat jokingly.

"Oh! How _did_ the game go?" Troy asked, displaying just who the more forgetful friend was.

"We pretty much dominated," Chad bragged.

"I'm not surprised. You guys are doing pretty good this season," Troy complimented.

"Heh. Yeah. We're awesome. How're you Golden Bears playing?"

Troy grumbled a little on the other line, finally forming the fragment, "Don't wanna talk about it."

Chad felt for his friend. "Aw, man. Sorry. And hey, I'm sorry I couldn't make it tonight."

Troy rambled on about how he was fine, how he didn't need anybody, and how even Gabi hadn't made an effort to come, and Chad glanced over his shoulder at the suitcase on his backseat. He "Mmhmm"ed and "Oh"ed and made the proper noises of sympathy while Troy vented his concerns about his basketball career, his grades, Gabriella. Chad eventually pulled his car to a stop at a convenience store to buy the cup of coffee he was definitely going to need. Stepping up to the cashier's counter, he told Troy to get a good night's sleep and closed his phone.

-break-

"I can't make it," she'd said. "I have to work." She'd known about the dates of this musical for at least two months beforehand, and she hadn't even bothered to call off her stupid _internship_ to come see him, not even on the second night.

"You've done it once; you can do it again," Gabriella assured Troy over the phone, and he gritted his teeth against the resentment he was feeling.

"Yeah, I know, Gabs. It's just . . . _different_ without you here," he explained, hoping she felt at least a small amount of guilt for leaving him all alone.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Troy." She didn't sound nearly as rueful as she should have.

"Well, _I'm_ not," Troy countered huffily.

"Oh, stop pouting," Gabriella commanded with a giggle. "I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay? I don't have to study or work, and if I leave early, we can spend the whole day together, just you and me."

The thought was enticing, and Troy found himself smiling a little, against his will. "Well, if you promise you'll come see the show sometime next week . . ."

"_Okay_," Gabriella relented with another lighthearted chuckle. "Break a leg, Bolton. Love you."

"I love you, t -" Gabriella hung up before Troy had a chance to finish his declaration.

He pocketed his phone dejectedly, aware of the glare T-something was sending his way across the mostly empty auditorium. He forced himself up the stairs at the front of the stage, exiting through the back curtain and reentering from the right, as was scripted for his first scene. Stage crew was running about, placing props and moving backdrops for the first act, and the lighting people were testing all the settings, leaving tiny black spots on Troy's vision as he hummed the opening tune to himself, absentmindedly moving across stage as he'd practiced so many times before, turning to face the back curtain and taking a few steps toward it before swaying a little.

He pivoted along with the song in his head and froze, a move not planned by the choreographer. The spotlight was blinding him again, but he could swear that standing there, among the empty front row seats, was -

"Hey, I'm a little early, but . . ."

"Chad!" Troy put his hand up to block the light and started down the stairs at a quick pace. "What - How - When did you -"

"I drove all last night, as soon as the game ended," Chad clarified, grinning boyishly, in spite of the dark circles under his eyes.

Troy grinned back and caught Chad in a tight hug, almost knocking him over in his fervor. He inhaled the scent of the best friend he'd missed probably more than was permissible for a guy with a girlfriend, exhaling the words "I'm really glad you came" against Chad's neck.

"Well, jeez. Me, too," Chad agreed like he was relieved, squeezing Troy briefly before pulling back and glancing around them with flushed cheeks. "I had to see it for myself: Troy Bolton, singing, in front of people, _without_ a girl to force him into it. _Un_believable."

Troy clocked him on the shoulder, laughing. "You better believe it. I have to _dance_, too."

Chad slapped the back of his hand to his forehead in mock-agony. "Oh, god, what's the world coming to?"

Troy took a moment to catch his breath, but he soon found himself staring into those familiar brown eyes, which were almost hidden by curly hair. "You gotta cut your afro, man," he joked with a playful snip at Chad's bangs with his fore and middle fingers.

Chad seized his hand and looked at him more seriously, offsetting the sudden silence with a comically grim, "_Never_."

But the way he gripped Troy's now-tingling fingers trapped them in that moment, and Troy turned toward the costume room, practically dragging Chad behind him and explaining himself with something about waiting and wanting and -

It really couldn't have mattered less once that door was closed and Chad had Troy shoved against a stack of accessory tubs, working Troy's belt buckle even as their mouths fought for dominance.

It wasn't enough just to see or to hear. Every available inch of skin was a land to be rediscovered by touch or taste, and no spot was overlooked.

"Miss me?" Troy teased as Chad's palm got past the elastic of his boxers and groped for the region below.

"You have no idea," Chad admitted lowly, his lips accidentally connecting with Troy's chin due to his intense focus on another anatomical area.

Troy arched forward as Chad slid his fingers around him, pulling slowly.

He placed a hand at the base of Chad's skull and guided him forward, to his mouth, eyes closing at the second, long stroke Chad delivered. Usually, it began like this, with Chad taking control, making Troy moan, but Troy always returned the favor.

Gasping at Chad's third tug, he pushed Chad's gym shorts out of the way, smirking a little at how eager his friend was - and how much he was pretending otherwise in his actions.

Once Troy got a good hold (and got in a few preliminary motions), a recognizable rhythm started, pumps and pants occurring in time, bodies brushing wherever clothing had slipped away, and the upcoming musical was forgotten as mouths smashed together heatedly, all crushed lips and colliding tongues.

But as quickly as it had begun, their passion came to an end; hitched breath and frozen, pleasure-jolted limbs transformed into a moist, heavy-breathing heap. Chad fell forward, burying his head in Troy's collarbone and appreciatively kissing the flesh he found there.

Troy's arms instinctively curved around Chad's sweating body, and they remained pressed together that way until their muscles changed back from a jelly-like substance into one which could facilitate movement.

"Wow," Chad muttered as they stepped apart, both a little displeased by the mess that had predictably been made.

"Didn't think it could get better than last time," Troy mentioned dazedly.

"Ha. Speak for yourself. You never stop amazing me," Chad admired with his trademark smile, pulling off his sticky shirt, and tugging at Troy's to spur him into action. He used the clean side of his shirt to wipe himself off, idly browsing the clothes around them.

"How long are you in town?" Troy asked, following suit.

"I can stay till tomorrow, but I have class on Monday," Chad replied, trying (failing) to mask how much the distance bothered him.

"Well, Gabriella was talking about driving up tomorrow, but I can tell her -"

"Dude, don't cancel just 'cause of me." Chad didn't look as sincere as he was attempting to sound.

"_Dude_," Troy countered a tad sarcastically, "You drove, like, seventeen hours to get here. Gabi won't mind."

Chad glanced at him bashfully. "It only took me fifteen hours."

Troy smiled shrewdly. "Oh, well in _that_ case . . . I still want you to stay. I'll see Gabriella next week."

Chad didn't say much then, but Troy could sense his grin without even looking.

"So, when does this thing start?" Chad questioned as Troy fastened the clasp on his new pair of pants.

"Seven." He grabbed his cell phone, and his eyebrows rose. "It's already six-fifteen," he announced reluctantly.

Chad pushed his bushy head through the collar of a T-shirt that had been hanging nearby, making eye contact with Troy as he slowly pulled the shirt down the rest of the way. "I . . . should probably go then, so you can . . . warm up . . . or something."

"Our pep-talk's not till six-thirty," Troy declared as Chad turned toward the door. "And people probably won't show up till then, either . . . I mean, unless you want to go."

When Chad faced him again, smirking, Troy had only buttoned part of the Oxford he was wearing for the show. Chad's eyes clouded lustily at Troy's half-exposed chest, and after his husky, "Why would I want to go?", they ended up spending another quarter-hour "warming up" as Chad had suggested.

As the clock struck six-thirty, Troy sent Chad off with a lingering kiss and a whispered, "See you after the show."

Troy watched him from the door of the costume room, hating how it felt to see him walk away. Almost as soon as Chad was out of earshot, T-something confronted Troy with an anger-slanted brow, demanding as if he had the right to know, "Who's that guy?"

Troy stared at him levelly and said, "You know who he is."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Listen . . . uh . . ."

"Terry!" Terry filled in the blank Troy had drawn for his name. "My name is _Terry_, and I thought -"

"Whatever you thought, man, it's not like that," Troy corrected automatically. "I just . . . You offered to help me calm down, and yeah, you helped. _Thanks_." Terry narrowed his eyes at the mockery in Troy's words. "But that doesn't mean we're going anywhere. The only guy I've _ever_ wanted to . . . _be_ with just walked offstage."

Terry was still angry, Troy could see, but he exhaled deeply before asking, "Does he know you're a cheater?"

Troy let out a derisive laugh and shook his head at Terry's ignorance. "He gets it - But listen; I'm sorry I used you."

Terry just scowled and stormed off.

-break-

When Troy entered the stage, butterflies unsettling his stomach, he was relieved to see a friendly face out there, watching attentively from the front row. Troy's adrenaline level rocketed whenever Chad reacted to the musical, reacted to _him_, specifically. Unlike the night before, he believed in his character and in himself, and he brought forth more energy than he had known he had in him. He loved being able to let himself go onstage, let the emotion flow out of him. To see Chad clapping energetically during curtain call was a familiar source of inspiration, and his heart thumped meaningfully against his ribs as he made a bow.

-break-

There was something about seeing his best friend in action, watching him pour his heart and soul into something that was only going to last a couple hours, that exhilarated Chad. Whenever Troy hit a particularly high note or completed a fairly dramatic turn, Chad's eyes went wide, and his heart palpitated in his ears. Whenever Troy's character was upset or excited, Chad was upset and excited, too. Whenever Troy looked out into the audience, Chad saw the genuine enjoyment in his eyes, because he loved performing this way. Chad couldn't quite pinpoint the source of the lump in his throat or the swelling in his chest. When the show ended and curtain call started, he was the first person to stand, clapping with wild enthusiasm.

-break-

"You were really great," Chad praised much more calmly than he felt, observing the other members of the audience, who were roaming around, shaking the hands of the performers.

Troy glanced at him and smiled at passersby in alternation. "Thanks. It means a lot that you're here."

Chad lowered his voice and leaned in subtly. "It means a lot that you want me here."

The catch in Chad's voice caused Troy's brain to click into motion, and he fully turned his head and questioned Chad with his eyes.

"I have something to tell you," Chad confessed, showing his teeth nervously.

"What is it?" Troy didn't know how to feel about the uncertain gleam in Chad's eyes, the way he couldn't quite catch his gaze.

"Now's not the time." Chad looked meaningfully at the crowd around them. "Or the place."

Troy frowned. "Okay. Let's get out of here then." Without delay, he moved away from everyone else, Chad following closely behind. "I just have to change, and then we can go get something to eat, if you want."

"Sounds good," Chad agreed, coming to a stop outside the dressing room and leaning patiently against the wall.

Troy hadn't been changing long before Chad noticed another man glaring at him from nearby. He stood up a little straighter and sent him a confused look. Evidently, the man took this as an invitation to approach, stance aggressive.

"I thought you should know," he began gruffly, "Troy isn't just with you."

Chad raised his eyebrows. "Uh, I know." He scowled. "But who the hell're you?"

The man looked surprised. "Last night's toy, I guess."

Chad shook his head and looked away, pretending actually meeting one of Troy's flings didn't cause him pain. "Great. So, your job's done. Why're you still here?"

The man began to answer, but seeing the dressing room door opening, he hightailed back whence he came without explanation. Chad watched him flee with a set jaw, crossing his arms over his chest to protect himself from what he was feeling.

Troy trailed Chad's gaze when his arrival didn't get a response, and his guilt immediately made itself apparent. "He didn't . . . _talk_ to you . . . did he?"

Chad tried not to be mad. This thing between him and Troy wasn't official, and he had had countless escapades of his own. It was just . . . Troy wasn't gay; he only used men because he felt it wasn't really a betrayal of Gabriella, but then . . . what did that say about his relationship with Chad?

"Chad?"

"What am I?" Chad asked, starting toward the back exit to avoid other people.

"Uh . . ." Troy stayed in step with him, utterly perplexed. "What?"

"Like . . . I know the other guys are just to blow off steam, and Gabriella's your girlfriend, but what am_ I_?" Chad directed his question straight ahead, afraid his face might show too much emotion.

"Well, you're . . . you're . . ." Troy let out a self-conscious laugh. "You're everything, man."

Chad's head snapped around to look at Troy as he pushed open the door and stepped out into the warm, California air. "Huh?"

"I said you're everything," Troy repeated, now a little embarrassed and thinking he maybe ought to explain. "I mean, you're my best friend and my teammate, and you're my brother . . ." He noticed Chad's unconscious cringe and grinned. "Okay, so maybe not that so much, but you know what I mean; you and I can do _anything_ together. Sure, you help me blow off steam sometimes," He took that moment to deliver a playful nudge, "but I can actually talk to you afterwards, and you're the only guy who listens when I'm complaining or who helps me through rough times. And I know - Gabi's my girlfriend, and that complicates things, but at the end of the day, nobody gets me better than you . . . Jeez, Chad; if anything, those other guys - I only put up with them because they remind me of you."

Chad was staring openly when Troy finished his outburst, cheeks in full bloom. "Oh."

"'Oh,'" Troy imitated, swinging an arm over Chad's no longer tense shoulders. "Anyway, what'd you have to tell me?" He casually looked around the school's empty back parking lot. "I think we're alone."

If possible, Chad's face turned an even darker shade of red. "Well, it's gonna sound stupid _now_," he muttered as they reached Troy's car.

Troy glanced at him askance. "You won't know unless you say it."

"I . . ." Chad paused to study Troy's expectant face, his bright blue eyes and perfectly tanned skin, the way his mouth curved when he smiled, and that expression that said he had no idea what was on Chad's mind. And he remembered all the time they'd spent together over the past fifteen years, all the phone calls they'd managed when they were apart, all the ups and downs they'd had. He just wondered if sharing the feelings he had realized while watching Troy onstage would result in an up or a down.

After a few minutes of Chad's silent observation, Troy's one - armed embrace tightened reassuringly, and his disposition changed to one more serious. "Chad, whatever it is . . ." His eyes darkened. "I lo -"

"Hey! _I_ love _you_!" Chad interrupted with a competitive glare, and Troy blinked at him in shock. "I wanted to say it first," he appended with a sudden tinge of timidity.

Troy burst out laughing, hanging onto a relieved Chad for support. "Only you would make _this_ a game," he joked.

Chad grinned and wrapped his arms around Troy's waist, pulling him forward. "_Only_ me," he uttered lowly as he leaned in close, intent on showing his love, right there in the parking lot.

**A/N: Review if you like.**


End file.
